Faye's Diary
by Phoenix Pinion1
Summary: FINISHED. major sapfest! This story does contain rape, though NOT in great detail, just the concept. Spike does NOT rape Faye! And it is NOT a lemon. SpikeFaye romance.
1. Before

_Pre-Author's Notes – _This is an Alternate Universe fic. It kind of assumes that all of the storyline stuff with Spike and his past (Julia, Vicious, etc.) never happens, and never will. It's like it's frozen in time when everyone is on the ship, before Ed and Ein leave, and before Spike meets his past and destiny. P.S. I really wish I knew a better title to this.  

_Faye's Diary_, by Phoenix Pinion

**__**

**_WARNING: THIS STORY MENTIONS RAPE. THOUGH IT IS NOT IN GREAT DETAIL, RAPE IS STILL A PART OF THIS FANFIC. IF THIS OFFENDS OR BOTHERS YOU, THEN BY ALL MEANS, DON'T READ!!_**

December 25, 2072

          Hmmm. So this is a 'diary', huh? The whole idea seems odd, and frankly, pretty ludicrous to me; I mean, what's the point of writing down all of your secret hopes, dreams, wishes and desires down in a little book, and an insecure one at that? If someone got a hold of it, your life could be ruined. And what about the expectations you build up for yourself when you have one? 'I should write in that diary,' you begin to think. And then everything goes downhill.

          Oh, well. I'm only writing my qualms in this book because it was a gift from someone that I hold dear to me. You guessed it – it's Spike. Today, just after I suffered through that slop that Jett fixes for lunch, Spike retreated to his room, claiming he had a 'surprise' for me. I expected it to be a sharp stick in the eye, or something like that, because I thought…notice the paste tense I use on that word…I _thought_ that I knew him well. But when he emerged with a wrapped parcel that he gave to me, what else could I do but take it? But his explanation of his splurge of kindness made me suspicious, I must say. He claimed that, on his homeland of Mars, everyone there has a tradition. Every year on December 25 there is a holiday named 'Christmas', and all people celebrate it by giving each other prettily wrapped presents and gifts, and general joy and merriment ensues. Yuck.

          Okay, I added the joy and merriment part. But that was what he seemed to imply. And he also said that, since I was born on Earth, I would recognize it too! Preposterous! I think I would be sick if I had to go through such a…happy holiday every year. And Spike, being sentimental? I don't think I could stand it. That lunkhead…I wonder what he's got up his sleeve.

-Faye Valentine

December 26, 2072 

          It turns out that Spike gave everyone a gift. Jett received a brand new pair of garden clippers for his bonsai trees; Ed, a book called 'The Secret of Hacking – 108 Things You Need To Know' (although I'm sure she was already well-familiar with all of the 108 things, she was still delighted to have it); why, even Ein got something: a brilliant blue collar with shiny tags revealing his name. He really doesn't look like quite so much of a mutt anymore, and seems proud that he finally has identification of himself.

          I have no idea why Spike actually decided to celebrate this odd holiday. He hasn't in the last year I've known him…when I asked him about it, he just shrugged and told me he happened to still own 500,000 woolongs, so he decided to just 'buy a little something' for us. 

          I, of course, didn't believe him at all. He was obviously trying to bribe us to do something for him. I may sound skeptical for goodwill and all of that bunk, but I've seen how rotten some men can be, so I really don't care. But when I voiced this disdain for him and his gift, he just gave that self-righteous smirk. That's the smile that can floor me in a second, because he just looks so damn _hot_ when he does that…! I froze, and he brushed past me to leave. But as he did this, his fingers brushed against my shoulder and, for just a second, squeezed. "Merry Christmas, Faye," he whispered, leaving me pitifully weak and reeling in the hallway. If that lunkhead hasn't realized how head-over-heels for him I am, then he's dumber than I thought!

          Shit. I just realized I'm doing the exact thing that I was bitching about in the last entry: writing my feelings, hopes, wishes and desires in a little book. Call me crazy, but it's kind of…relaxing.

-Fay Valentine

December 28, 2072

          I still can't figure out why Spike bought me a diary. All of the other gifts I can easily understand: Jett trims his bonsai as a hobby, Ed hacks all the time for us, and Ein…is just Ein. But a diary for me? I never professed that I like to write. In fact, I hated it before I got this. But I must admit that this is a truly beautiful book: it has a hand-stitched vine of roses curling around the black cloth cover, and at the bottom two letters: "F.V." are monogrammed. He must have spent a mint on this antique, and I like the way that someone like he would go out of their way to find something so original for me. I just would have expected something more like a handgun. Oh well…I'm sure things will explain themselves in due time.

-Faye Valentine

January 2, 2073

          It's hard to believe that I've been on this ship for almost two years. I'm beginning to think of everyone as a family of sorts: Jett as a father; Ed, a little sister; Spike, a brother. I'm even beginning to think of Ein as the family dog. Odd…

          This New Year's Eve was just like last year's. We all got roaring drunk off of reserve wine, sang old songs we forgot we knew, and ended up passed out on and around that horribly ugly, faded yellow couch. Even Ed joined in on the festivities. Though none of us can clearly remember what happened, we _do_ know that it's the most fun we've had in a while.

-Faye

January 13, 2073

          _Oh yeah!!_ Spike and I just hauled in a criminal for _twenty million woolongs_!! That's seven million each, with three million for Jett, and three million in savings! Finally, a real bounty. I can buy more cigarettes (hooray! I've been out for three days), new makeup and a new wardrobe. And we can actually buy real food…no more empty cabinets and refrigerators! I'm so excited…I can't wait to go shopping.

-Faye

January 14, 2073

          Something odd has just occurred to me. That bounty head that we reeled in was an easy catch. And I'm not trying to be modest: any amateur could have easily caught him. Maybe Big Shots accidentally read the bounty wrong? I've noticed lately that they've frequently been correcting themselves. In any case, I'm not complaining over our fortune!

January 17, 2073

          Bath taking is a small luxury in this day and age that is severely frowned upon. Don't ask me why; it is, and always will be, the most relaxing thing I can do. I usually read while I bathe, but now I've discovered that, if I'm careful, I can write in my diary instead (like I'm doing now). Now, I'm even more excited to snuggle in warm water than I was before. This diary is a good, good thing.

January 18, 2073

          I feel kind of bad because I still haven't repaid Spike's kindness at 'Christmas' with a gift of my own. Nobody has given Spike anything, actually, even though we use our gifts from him all the time: almost every day (if I don't write in my diary, than I am reading earlier passages that I have already written) we use our gifts. I really want to buy him something, but first of all, I have no idea what he would desire. Secondly, I have a fear that, like many other things, he would just shrug it off. I still haven't told him how much I use this. I don't really want to sound 'soft', especially compared to his macho manliness. 

          Maybe I'll give him half of the money from the next bounty head that I pull in. That would be a neutral type gift. But I also want it to be personal. Maybe I could ask Jett about it…I'm sure he has some ideas.

January 26, 2073

          Things have been pretty slow around here. The last bounty was the one for twenty-mil. Don't get me wrong, we're still living comfortably off of it, but soon we will run out of woolongs, and, therefore, we will run out of food too. I want to go for a bounty myself, but all of the criminals on Big Shots lately have only been small fries. None have been worth more than a million woolongs. I'm still not desperate enough to go after those amateurs; if I see a bounty of two mil or more, however, I'll take it.

February 8, 2073

          Arg! That stupid kid! Today, Ed fed Ein the last of our food (two cracked eggs and a bell pepper). _I _was going to eat it…Big Shots still hasn't shown a large bounty, though I've become an avid watcher. And I don't want to back out on my promise to myself, so I won't go after any criminals yet.

          Spike did something that was pretty strange today. I was watching a nature show (about some extinct animal called a 'panda'…don't ask me what _that _is), sitting upright on the couch, when Spike walked in – straight to the kitchen, of course. He rummaged around in there for a few minutes, then walked out empty-handed. Sometimes I think his philosophy is, "When you can't eat or train, then sleep," because he lay down on the couch to doze; the only problem was that _I_ was in the way of his head. Instead of asking that I move, he just laid it right on top of my lap, and went straight to sleep.

          Well, why in the hell would he do a thing like that?! Was it simply because he didn't have the energy to push me away, or was it something…more? I just sat there, not even paying attention to the fluffy animals on the television, frozen because I did not want him to awaken, for almost thirty minutes.

          As I sat there, staring at him, I realized how handsome and graceful he was, even in sleep. And, call me crazy, but I got the urge to stroke his fuzzy green afro. I was hesitant at first, but then realized what a heavy sleeper he was. So, gently, so gently it was barely a touch, I ran my fingers through his hair. He didn't move, so I did it again. Soon I had a rhythm going through my fingers. And you want to know what? It felt so _good_, so _right_, to show my affection for him that way. This wonderful, light-headed feeling started to assail me, giving me butterflies in my stomach…

          Maybe…

          Maybe it's…

          Love?

February 10, 2073

          Two days without food…my stomach is _killing_ me…

          Spike finally took it upon himself to chase a one-million woolong bounty head. Neither Jett nor I offered to help because this man is supposedly an easy catch; even so, I could not help but feel odd as I watched his ship fly off. It was a tingling chill running up and down my spine – like cold fingers running down my back. Whenever I think of him, the feeling returns. I don't know if it's a premonition or what…but I'm scared.

February 11, 2073

          Well, once again, that dumb kid is full of surprises. We found an emergency supply of woolongs in Ed's room. It's only 500,000, but it's enough to buy at least enough food to last until Spike gets back with the bounty. He should be back later today, and that gives us time to stop on Mars to buy supplies. Oh, I'm so hungry! Spike will be so surprised when he gets back. 

February 14, 2073

          Spike still hasn't returned. My strange little feeling has turned to outright worry and fear. As I've earlier written, it shouldn't have taken more than a day to catch that man…

          What's worse, he seems to have turned his communicator off. Jett and I have tried several times to reach him, but all that we've received is static. Even Ed's hacking skills haven't told us where he is, or if he's caught that bounty head yet. All that we know is that he left for Venus. Jett and I have vowed that if he doesn't return within the next two days, we're going after him.

          At least I'm not starving anymore, as we bought more food. The only bad thing about that is, now I know the tingling inside me is not for lack of food…

February 15, 2073

          Oh my God…I don't know if I can even write about something as terrible, as _awful_ as this…

          This morning, Ed received an anonymous video through cyberspace. Jett and I were eating scrambled eggs for breakfast, and just as I was mentioning that I was really worried about Spike, Ed walked in.

          The first thing I noticed was the big, thick tears falling down her cheeks. I was stunned, to say the least: I had never, _ever_ seen that familiar grin off her face, for even an instant. That, right there, should have tipped me off to the seriousness of the matter. And she never said a word, just gestured to her laptop on the table in front of the couch. We followed her silent form there, my stomach twisting into panicked knots and food forgotten. We stared at the screen as her finger dragged down it.

          "Ed…got mail from Venus this morning," she whispered brokenly. I could feel myself begin to tremble. _What happened to him? _I wondered in dread as she started the video…

          It started with a seedy looking man (_Spike's bounty! _I thought to myself), who talked about how he had set up a hidden camera of sorts in the warehouse that he and Spike would face off in. His last words were, "…Enjoy the show."

          "Not that," I whispered during the course of that awful, awful video, bursting into tears myself as Ed wailed harder, "anything but that…oh, God…"

          I don't want to tell details anymore. I don't even want to think about the horrors I saw on that video. All that I will relate is that…Spike was raped. He was violently, brutally raped by that monster disguised as a man. His screams of, "No! Stop! It hurts…stop, please! No!" will forever haunt my dreams…

          My stomach churned as the video finished. I cried, slamming my fist into the counter in helpless frustration, getting more and more furious as the moments wore on. I was furious at the bounty, for doing such a vile, detestable act to the man I loved. I was furious at Jett and myself for not insisting to help Spike. But I was also furious at Big Shots. Just after that horrific video finished, they came in on the living room television, claiming that they had…you guessed it, made another mistake. That perverted pig's bounty is actually fifteen million, not one million, woolongs, due to his violent sexual assaults on his victims. So, it is also their fault that Spike was…

          At that moment, Jett and I unanimously decided that we were going to kill him and rescue Spike. We don't care about the odds, or the danger of blindly going to him. After all, we have a better idea of what that sick bastard can do…and we're prepared for him, unlike poor, poor Spike…

          Jett and I couldn't care less about his bounty. We want him dead. Not handed to the authorities, but _dead_! Just thinking about that sick man, walking around free and alive after doing that to Spike, makes my blood boil. We're going to kill him, and we're going to enjoy it. I just hope Spike will be…alive…when we get there…

          I'm in my Sting Ray right now. I guess I've written a lot…too much for one day…but I still have an hour until Jett – in his Hammerhead right now – and I reach Venus. I guess I should sleep until then, if I can…I'll need my strength if I want to face off against Spike's rapist.

_~To Be Continued_

_Post-Author's Notes – Man, guys, I'm really sorry. I honestly tried to write a nice, light-hearted romance fic between Spike and Faye (as you can tell by the first half of the fic – it's definitely happier than the last half), but, as usual with my fanfics, it got very dark very quickly. I didn't want it to become like this – Spike being raped, and quite possibly dead as Faye and Jett raced to his rescue – but it just kind of happened. I really am sorry. I tried not to make it too depressing. _

_Oh yeah, about Faye signing her name…no, I did not get lazy, and decide not to have Faye sign her diary after every entry. I think that her deciding not to sign her name after every entry kind of signifies that she is getting more and more comfortable with writing in her diary. Sorry, just thought I should bring that up._

_This fic was actually very hard to write. I figure that Faye would not use as much detail as I usually do, so I found myself deleting words often and replacing them with smaller words that seem more to fit Faye's style. It was tough, but I tried my damndest to make my style somehow fit hers._

_Next update, I still plan to have Faye writing in her diary. Will Spike be alive for her to write about? And if he is, can she heal his physical and mental wounds? It is still a romance fic between them, and I am going to continue this. The next update may be in as little as a few days (which is pretty damn amazing for me, I must say). So, if you guys actually liked it, then yeah. I guess you don't have to wait too long. A side note: reviews (good or criticizing – hopefully constructively) are always accepted, so long as they aren't outright flames. I'm sorry, but I really hate flames. And if I get flames about the rape, I really won't be happy, as I clearly warned you about the subject at the beginning of the fic. Thank you. I'm done now, bye! Thanks for reading ~PP_


	2. After: At the Hospital

_Disclaimer for chapter one and two (as I forgot to add it for the last chapter) – _This material does not belong to me. The only thing that belongs to me is the story idea. Please don't sue Faye's Diary, chapter two: by Phoenix Pinion March 3, 2073 

                I haven't written in so long…I feel bad about it, but I'm just so worried about Spike…

                I think that I can let out some of my frustration and anger out about that day if I write about it. So I will relate all that happened on the day we went to rescue Spike. I can still remember the exact words that were said…

                After I finished writing, I did indeed sleep, but I began to have uneasy nightmares. I dreamt about the video, and about how many times that Spike had been…violated…and I woke up crying.

                When we reached the warehouse…it pains me to say this, but we weren't able to kill that asshole. He was there, waiting for us, when we walked in. He said a few words (ones that disgusted and shocked me), and suddenly he was gone. Jett and I still don't know what happened to him. 

                I found Spike first, in a small back room. It still makes me cry to think of how pitiful he looked…he was face-down, lying in a puddle of blood, sweat and probably tears, with his mouth gagged and his ankles and wrists bound. The cloth had been tied so tightly around them that they oozed blood. Sobbing (I wasn't sure yet if he was unconscious…or dead), I ran to him, untied him and turned him to his back.

                He wasn't unconscious _or_ dead…but I honestly don't think he was living. His eyes were open, and slightly glazed, but they couldn't seem to focus on me. This scared me: maybe he had gotten a bad head injury? He whispered, "Are you an angel?"

                "No, Spike," I cried (when Spike gets delirious, you _know_ that he's badly hurt), "It's me, Faye! Don't you remember me…?" He blinked. His eyes closed.

                "Oh…Faye," he finally murmured. "I really wish you were an angel right now, because I also really wish I were dead…" 

                "Don't you dare," I gritted back, tears of relief that he wasn't dead and fright that he still could die streaming down my face, as I screamed hysterically, "Jett! Jett! I found him…Jett!" 

                When Jett arrived, he gently draped his jacket over Spike's body – somehow managing to be much, much calmer than I was – and started to check for extreme injuries. "I don't know if he has internal injuries or not," I breathlessly told him, "but he's hurt bad. We need to get him to a hospital, _now_." 

                Spike suddenly seemed to snap out of his delirium. "I didn't want you to see me like this," he muttered, turning his pale, tearful and bruised face away in shame as Jett gently picked him up.

                "You lunkhead," I sobbed (I don't know how I possibly could have actually insulted him then), "we're taking you to a hospital." 

                Spike passed out then, and we placed him in Jett's ship, which is larger than mine, as I towed Spike's own ship along with me to the hospital. 

Thankfully, Spike did not have any internal injuries. His physical wounds were anything from bruises to chafe marks to cuts – nothing extremely serious. He had a minor concussion, but even that was not as serious as some of the things he has endured. He's already been here for about two weeks, and his physical wounds are almost healed. It's his mental condition that worries me: he's not unconscious anymore, but whenever he has tried to sleep, his nightmares have woken him up screaming and sobbing before the nurses administered the anesthetic on him. He hasn't spoken a word to Jett or me since we found him. (We haven't let Ed visit him. We don't want her to grow up too fast by seeing him like this.) 

                I really don't want to write anymore. I've come to the hospital to look after Spike, not write the whole time. I'll have plenty of time to write more when Jett relieves me.

March 4, 2073

                Spike is still in the hospital. The doctors say that he's fully healed physically, but they don't want to let him out just yet because of his mental condition. He still seems to be in shock over what happened, and who can blame him? I feel so sorry for him. And I also feel that I've let him down by not killing the bastard that did this to him. 

                One of the doctors pulled me aside as I was leaving. I didn't know him, as he was not a doctor that tended to Spike, but I visit so often that I'm sure all of the staff know Spike's and my story. "Be strong for him," he had told me. "He's going to need you now, and you must be strong." I wanted to cry as I heard those words. _But he was always strong for _me! I thought. _Whenever I faltered, he never did, and he always caught me when I fell. How can _I _be strong now? How can we switch roles? _But I didn't say any of these things out loud. I just shakily thanked him for his advice, and left to think about it.

                I know it's going to be hard, but I am going to be strong. I will always give Spike a shoulder to cry on, and I will always lend him an ear to listen, and a pair of arms to hug him and comfort him. I will become Spike's angel, I promise. 

March 6, 2073

                Jett and Ed caught a _huge_ bounty yesterday when I was at the hospital – a thirty-million woolong bounty. They are going to give all of it to the hospital for Spike's bill; that paid for a large chunk of it, but there is still more that we will have to scrounge up. If we can't catch any more bounties, I may have to give up the woolongs that I was saving up to buy Spike a gift. But now, buying him a gift seems even more profound. I really don't want to have to give it up.

March 7, 2073

                I want to elaborate on what happened when we first entered the warehouse to rescue Spike, as the feelings I have about it are confusing me. In the warehouse, that bastard actually made me believe that Spike had died. "Where is Spike?" Jett had yelled, leveling his gun at the bounty as I did the same, also looking furtively with my eyes for any traces of Spike.

"Don't waste your time," he had said in this god-awful smug voice, "he's dead. I killed him myself." And as he had said these words, I felt myself breathe my last breath. I honestly felt…blank inside, as if everything else that had ever made me exist had suddenly been erased. The only other time I had felt so strongly about anything was when I had learned about my past. I could feel tears coming to my eyes, and without even thinking, I shot, and shot, and kept shooting until I was totally out of bullets. _That fucking _bastard!! I thought hysterically, and it was not until Jett started calling for me to stop that I realized I was shooting at nothing. The bounty had disappeared, into thin air it seemed, and my bullets – all six of them – were lodged into the far wall. He obviously isn't dead, but Jett and I don't know what happened to him.

                It still hurts to think of what would have happened if what he has said had been true. I don't know what I would have done if Spike had died…

March 15, 2073

                Spike is going to be let out of the hospital tomorrow. We managed to get another bounty that helped pay off his bill, so we don't have to worry about that, at least. Now I can devote my time to caring for him, and being strong for him.

                Ed is practically bouncing off the walls, waiting for Spike to come back. She is so excited that she's going to see him again, and her enthusiasm is wearing off on me; I feel this electric tingle running up and down my spine. At least now, we can pretend that nothing has happened. 

                I haven't seen Spike for about four days, so I am anxious to see if he's going to speak, or look any better than he did the last time I looked after him. We are going to the hospital tomorrow to pick him up, and I hope that seeing all of us (Ed even insisted on bringing Ein) will help raise his spirits. 

March 16, 2073

                Well, Spike is back. I feel so happy that I don't have to go to that hospital again. I've always hated them: the whole place reeks of death, disease and despair. They also remind me of my unknown past.

                We met Spike at the door to the hospital. He was so pale, not only from not getting any sunlight for the past month, but I also think that he was a bit nervous to see us. He never met our eyes, just looked at the ground, or at the sky, or at some unknown place in the distance. I was pleased to see that he wore an extra suit that I brought him the last time I had seen him; but it hung loosely around his body, showing that he had become thinner.

                "Hey…guys," he whispered. His voice was only an echo of its former self; no longer soft and devilishly sultry, it just…was. It seemed hoarse and disused to my ears.

                Ed seemed to have all of our excitement…but I don't know if that was good or not. She held a squirming, panting Ein in her arms, but immediately let him go when Spike emerged. With a joyful squeal of, "Spike-person!" she skittered up to him and, before Jett or I could stop her, hugged Spike tightly around his middle. 

                Spike's eyes grew wide. I could see him suddenly begin to tremble in panic and fear. If just a little girl hugging him could make him this terrified, I realized he might never be the same as he was…and I would have to be very strong to help him through it. I suddenly felt cold and clammy; I had no idea he would be this bad. 

                Thankfully, Ed let go before Spike got too panicked, and began zooming around him and us, happily yelling her joy that Spike was out of the hospital to the world. Ein, too, began to bark wildly, running with his short stubby little legs after Ed. 

                Spike still looked unnerved that Ed had touched him, and trembled a little. Trying to keep the despair out of my eyes, I awkwardly walked up to him, and said, "Are you ready to go home?" He briefly met my eyes with his, then started walking towards the ship.

                I'm glad he's back, even if he is only a shadow of his former self…and I hope I can be strong enough for both of us.

_~To Be Continued_

_Post-Author's notes – Damn, I got this chapter up quick! I'm proud of myself! Anyway, Spike's alive, and unfortunately, so is his rapist. I decided to post this now, instead of continuing into a longer chapter, because I just realized that this is a good place to end. I'll get the next chapter up as soon as I can, I promise. And I want to thank you all for your good reviews. I wasn't sure if I would get flamed for it or not. I think I will get flamed for this chapter, though._

_Do you guys think I should bump the rating for this story up to an R? I just realized that this has some pretty racy material. If I get enough reviews telling me to take it up to an R rating, then I will. So if you feel strongly about this, then review!_

_I also want to apologize for using the wrong name for Faye's ship. I coulda sworn it was the Sting Ray…_

_Since I do know what I'm going to write for the next chapter, it should be up pretty soon. And please review if you liked this chapter! You can do it by clickin' that little button at the bottom that says 'review'. =P_

_Well, expect the next chapter very soon! Thanks for reading, all. ~PP_


	3. After: At the Bebop

**_WARNING – THIS CHAPTER DOES CONTAIN A SUICIDE ATTEMPT. IF THIS OFFENDS OR BOTHERS YOU IN ANY WAY, THEN BY ALL MEANS, DON'T READ!!!!_**

Disclaimer for this and all other chapters of this fic (as I won't post them anymore) – This story is not meant for profit. I own nothing but the story idea. Don't sue, please.

Faye's Diary, chapter 3: by Phoenix Pinion March 24, 2073 

          Well, it's one o'clock in the morning, and, as has been my wont since he has returned, I'm wide awake. I lay here, trembling, on my bed, trying to drown out his screams…as usual. Though most nights I am immediately at his side when the nightmares hit him, and awaken him yelling into my arms, I feel too drained to hold him, and comfort him, and roughly knuckle my own tears away as he sobs into my shoulder. It hurts too much, to see Spike, the once-formidable, uncaring Cowboy, so troubled and depressed. To see him walking so listlessly about the ship, if he even walks about the ship at all; to see him lifelessly staring at the food Jett fixes us, hardly eating enough to fill a child's portion of food. 

          Sometimes I wonder if that rapist bastard knows exactly what he does to his victims. He may feel that he does them a favor by letting them survive, but really that is the worst torture of all. When he finishes with them, they only wish they were dead. I know that is how Spike feels. He wishes and hopes for death, to take him out of this living hell and put him in the real hell that he belongs. And I cry with him. Before I finally arise to awaken Spike, embrace him and let him wet my shoulder with tears, I will say one thing. 

          I earlier wrote that I could at least claim that things were the same.

          I was wrong.

          Things aren't the same…they can never be the same.

March 28, 2073

          Jett and I had to go catch a bounty today, and we got a four-mil one. We did things differently than earlier. We don't want the same thing that happened to Spike to happen to us, so we take a lot of security to make sure it won't. First, we make Ed hack into the bounty head's personal file, to make sure we are fully prepared to face the worst. Then, we come prepared as if we were to face two or three manifestations of the bounty, instead of just one person. And we make sure Ed is on standby at all times on the Bebop. 

Even with all of that security, Spike won't even consider going with us…and I honestly can't blame him. I think he feels a bit guilty that he can't help us get woolongs, but if he does he doesn't show it. Now, all that he ever shows is depression. 

          I think that part of what causes this behavior is his lethargy. All he does is eat, sleep, and live…in the loosest sense of the word. I have a feeling that, if I make him do _something_, he may feel better about himself. Maybe he should just help with small tasks around the Bebop.

March 29, 2073

          Now I'm really scared. I always had thought that, no matter what, Spike would want to go on living. That he would have enough drive to realize that things would get better someday, and that he had to keep on going so he could see that day, eventually. But now I'm beginning to doubt these thoughts…

          As I earlier explained, I think that I could help Spike to feel "wanted" by having him help with simple chores around the Bebop. Well, Jett decided to make stew today, as a mish-mash of our abundant ingredients aboard the Bebop. _Perfect_, I thought. 

          All I did was lead Spike to the kitchen, hand him a knife and a few carrots, and tell him to dice them and put them in the pot for the stew. Then I turned my back on him to wash dishes. I had no idea that this premise could get so tainted and ugly…

          The next thing I knew, I heard dripping noises from Spike's direction. I turned, and blood blocked my vision. It rapidly spurted from a neatly done vertical slit across his wrist. He didn't even seem to notice that his blood was dripping down the counter and onto the floor; it was crazy. Just seconds ago I myself had put the knife in his hand. And now… "Oh my God," I cried out, and quickly pressed a rag to it to staunch the flow, then carefully dressed it before heading to my room to write; I can't believe how stupid I was to provide an easy out for him like that.

          The look…of _desperation,_ fucking _calmness_ in his eyes absolutely chilled me. He _knew_ what he had done, accident or not, and maybe, just maybe, he liked it. I really don't like that look that I saw in those eyes (the first emotion that I've seen in them comes from him slitting his own wrist…that is a very bad sign). They said: _Faye, I have to do this, whether you like it or not. It's the only way out, and you know it. _

          But…maybe I'm just reading too far into it. I sure hope that I am.

April 1, 2073

          Now that cut that Spike made is an ugly-looking pink welt. I get chills every time I see it…I construe it as a warning of sorts; Spike's cry for help before he does something he'll regret. But…I don't want to think about it anymore. This is the first bath I've taken since he has returned, and I want to savor it. 

          …Spike's nightmares seem to be getting worse. I can't stand the same thing every night: padding into his bedroom, gently touching his shoulder to wake him, then quietly comforting him with, "It's alright, it's alright, I won't let him hurt you again…" as he hysterically cries against my shoulder (always in the same place…just a few inches above my underarm, right at the curve of my shoulder); all the while, I feel my heart wrench at the man I love. It's hard to contain myself when I'm so close to him, when he's so vulnerable…I just want to kiss away his tears, gently entangle my fingers in his hair, whisper into his ear my love…

          But I shouldn't think that way. Spike, if he ever recovers, will never love again. I know this fact. Even if he could love, I would not be the one he chooses. I cannot betray his trust by doing anything remotely like that to him now, in his highly susceptible state. But still…I can't teach myself to stop loving him, no matter how hard I try…

          I really should stop crying when I write…I don't want my tears to ruin the paper.

April 3, 2073

          I just noticed that Spike is much more modest now that he's come back from the hospital. Before the incident, he would sleep on that awful yellow couch all the time, sometimes even nude with only a thin sheet covering him. Now he won't even let us catch him sleeping on the thing. He always must have his full suit on; hell, even when I go into his room at night he is wearing it. I feel terrible at how insecure he is. He's also always looking over his shoulder, as if he's afraid of someone taking advantage of him from behind.

          Another odd quirk he has developed is showering often. I mean, he has never had bad hygiene in the past – he usually took a shower every other day. But now he takes up to four showers a day. It's almost as if he feels so tainted and dirty on the inside that if he scrubs his skin clean he might feel more pure. I don't know.  

          If I could, I would go out and kill that fucking bastard that raped him right now. That would help ease Spike's mind…but whenever I tell Ed to look up the bounty's profile, she can't find it. It's as if he disappeared right from the face of the universe. It's odd…and it pisses me off. 

April 11, 2073

          Spike is getting worse. He wouldn't even leave his room today, leaving the door to it locked and not letting anybody inside. Damn it, he's scaring me. I don't want anything to happen to him…and I don't want him to do anything _to _himself. I don't know what in the hell I would do if he died…it's giving me shudders just thinking of it. How could I live without Spike? How could I love without Spike? How could I _be _without Spike…? Fuck, I depend on him so much…more than he depends on me. So I must be even stronger in the future. I can't let anything happen to him.

April 12, 2073

          Oh, Jesus Christ…

          If I would have walked in _five seconds_ later than I did, Spike would have…would have…

          Shit. _Shit! _

          Spike would have killed himself today if I would have walked in to his room any later than I did…

          I walked into his room (he unlocked it this morning) to tell him that lunch was ready. There he was, sitting on his bed…a gun to the side of his head. His eyes were closed, and I knew he was going to…I absolutely freaked out and screamed, "No!" starting to run towards him…but before I got there, he pulled the trigger…

           …and collapsed onto the bed…

          …in shock. "It wasn't loaded…" he whispered, trembling violently as I scooped him into my arms and hugged him, trying to calm my jangled nerves and bursting into panicked, relieved tears. His unloaded pistol dropped to the ground as he shakily embraced me back. I didn't leave that position for almost an hour, just holding him and crying. All of this scares the shit out of me…what was he_ thinking_?

          I'm still in shock over the whole thing. Did Spike mean to keep the gun unloaded? Did he stage the thing precisely as I walked in, as a cry for help? Or did he really want to…commit suicide?

          I found a note that he wrote…a farewell note…on his dresser. It reads:

          _To Jett, Ed, and especially Faye:_

_          I want to thank you for the fun times that I've had on the Bebop. Thanks to you, my short life had meaning. I've been wanting to do this – commit suicide – for a long time now, but I haven't had the nerve. Now I know it's the only way out…the only way to stop the terror, depression and pain. I know that you tried so hard to comfort me, Faye, but nothing can save me now._

_          Ed, I will never forget your crazy antics. Even in the worst of times, you could brighten my day with your devil-may-care attitude. Thanks for all of the hacking jobs you did for me. _

_          Jett, you old bastard. You may call me a coward, a lying filthy coward, for taking the easy way out. But you would understand, if you were in my shoes. Even if we hardly saw eye-to-eye, you were still a good friend and admirable father figure to me. Thanks for taking me out of some rough spots in the past._

_          And Faye… I know you've tried so hard this past month. You want to comfort me when I awaken from those god-damn nightmares. You want to have me help around the ship, as if that will somehow give meaning to my dead life. You want to pretend nothing has happened…even though something _has_, and you can't ever change that fact. Out of everyone I know, you will be the one I miss the most. I'm sorry I had to put you through so much grief and worry when I was alive. Now, I hope to relieve some of that stress. Thank you for everything._

_-Spike_

That bastard…what am I going to do now…?

_~To Be Continued_

_Author's Notes – This chappie was heavy, I know. It had a whole lot of angsty stuff goin' on, including Spike's little suicide attempt. I don't know if that's what a suicide note really looks like, but I tried to make it sound like one. ^_^; _

_I bumped the rating up, just in case. And because I did, I used some more curse words in this one too. It was fun! =D  _

_I think I'm going to try to end this fic in about 3-4 more chapters. I know what I'm going to do and all, so all I have to do is write it. It's amazing I'm thinking ahead so far. But the next chapter should be up in about…a week? Probably a week. If you liked this story, or have some constructive criticism for me, then review! You can do it by clickin' the little button at the bottom that says 'review'. =P_

_So yeah. Thanks for reading, all! Bye! ~PP_


	4. After: At the Bebop: No Nightmares

April 15, 2073

                Damn, Spike is going to kill me. My nerves have been so shot after his suicide attempt, I've been smoking twice as much as I usually do. I've gone through five packs just in these last three days; I can practically feel my insides rotting.

                He's such a fucking…fucking _idiot! _I can't believe he would do something so stupid as try to take his own life! I used to think that, no matter how bad things got, there would be a shred, just a little bit, of life inside of his ravaged mind that told him no, things _will_ get better. But now I don't know. His willingness to kill himself certainly contradicts that fact!

                I want to be angry with him at doing something like that. I want to not be able to understand how he could be that depressed. I want to slap him across the face, and yell, "Lunkhead! Things will get better eventually! Don't you dare try to check out now!" But I could never be angry with him. How could I? He was _raped_, for God's sake. That's just so tragic and sad; not something to get angry with another person for. And I do understand how he could be that depressed; it's just common sense that someone would feel worthless as hell after something like that happened to them. And as much as I'd like to keep preaching that things will get better, and that suicide is not the answer, I'm beginning to think it's the only way out for poor Spike. His suffering has been unbelievable. I don't know if there's any more I can do for him. Things are just hopeless…

                And don't get me wrong; I don't want Spike to die at all! It's the _last _thing I want. But…maybe it's for the better. God, how could I be admitting that it would be in Spike's best interest to die? I'm a hopeless coward…

April 14, 2073

                I'm so frightened. Spike locked himself in his room again, and I don't know what he has been doing for the past day. Jett refuses to even _acknowledge _that Spike tried to kill himself, and Ed, of course, doesn't understand the seriousness of the situation. I'm totally alone in dealing with Spike's depression. I…I don't think I can do it. I'm…I'm so scared! I don't want Spike to die. I don't want him to be depressed. Why did this happen to us? We were fine, before that bastard bounty showed up on Big Shots. Why…?

                Damn it, I promised myself I'd stop crying when I wrote.

April 15, 2073

                Spike finally left his room today, and he looks none the worse for wear. Well…as I wrote that sentence, I just realized how different he is since the rape. The physical changes have been gradual, but now I notice them. Spike has large gray circles under his eyes, from not getting a good night's sleep for two months. Believe it or not, he used to spend almost an hour every morning styling that afro of his to perfection. He does nothing with it now (though it still looks almost the same). Another thing I've noticed: his hands shake. They never did beforehand. He takes no pride in his appearance anymore. 

                But, now that I think of it, I've changed too. Just like he, I have dark circles under my eyes. I haven't had time to cut my hair, so it's almost shoulder-length (it grows fast). I'm a much more anxious and worried person than I was. Also, I think I'm getting more emotional. Before the incident, I couldn't have cared less about anything. But now…

                It's amazing how one moment in time can change your entire look on things, isn't it…?

April 16, 2073

                I finally confronted Jett today about his attitude towards Spike. I'm furious at him for pretending that Spike is fine, and that the rape didn't even happen. "He needs you, Jett!" I yelled at him. "He needs all of us, especially now! How dare you treat him like this?" Jett didn't even blink at my onslaught. All he did was give me a tortured look, catching my eyes and holding them in his gaze before walking away without a word. 

                I was feeling so enraged when he walked away, I could have ran to him and punched him, right then and there, but I let him go without even a parting word. His look had shaken me. Something…in those eyes…

                Jett is afraid. Afraid that Spike will die. That he won't ever be the same. Afraid…that it was Jett's own fault. 

                I know how he feels. The same thoughts plague me all the time. I wonder…I wonder if he and Spike see that same look in _my _eyes?

April 18, 2073    

                Spike seems…different. Since I've last written, he's changed; I don't know if it's for the better or worse, but he is certainly not the same as he was. I can't pinpoint exactly what it is. He just doesn't have this _air _around him that he used to have. Maybe his suicide attempt shocked him so much that he…well, I honestly don't know. Perhaps there _is_ a shred of life inside of him yet. I'd love to think that was actually true.

                He's also started rolling the sleeves of his suit down. Now it is impossible to see the scar on his wrist. (It's now just a few shades whiter than his skin.) Maybe…maybe… he's ashamed of it? That would be a large step in the right direction if he were; I just hope that he's not rolling his sleeves down to cover more than one scar…

April 19, 2073

                Something amazing happened last night. Something that astounded me and made me believe that what I said yesterday was true. 

                Spike didn't have nightmares last night.

                This is the first time he hasn't woken up screaming since the incident.

                It's the first restful night we've both had.

                It's…crazy. Could Spike possibly be…getting over the incident? I'm shaking so badly with excitement that it's hard to write right now!

                This is a big deal. This is…such a big deal! 

                I didn't notice that he didn't have nightmares until I actually awoke this morning in my own bed. Every night, I'd come from my room, comfort him, and then fall asleep on the floor next to his bed, ready to comfort him again if need be. But I actually awoke on my own bed! That means I didn't have to wake Spike from nightmares at all! Oh my God, it's so…fucking _awesome_! 

                But there could be some sort of catch to this…I'd better go see Spike (it's still the morning right now…I couldn't wait to get this phenomenon on paper) and see what's going on with him.

April 19, 2073 (continued)

                Spike was asleep when I walked into his room. He was actually asleep! That's another very, very good sign that something incredible is happening. I walked to him, eyes wide in shock and happiness, but ready for anything. He opened his eyes, sat up and yawned; when he saw me, he just smirked a little and said, "No nightmares…a good sign." Before leaving, he gently put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed for a moment. Then he walked away.

                First of all, Spike didn't have nightmares! This may not sound like such a big deal, but it is. It means…he's getting over the rape. This is one small step in the right direction, and after all of the big ones Spike took in the wrong direction, this is a very good sign. And he smiled! The first smile he has used for almost a month. The smile that turns my bones to jelly, that makes my heart beat at five-million beats per minute, and that is just so…sexy!

                Oh my God. I just wrote that as if nothing had ever happened to Spike. I wrote it as I would have written it before the rape. I think that's the best sign of all…I am beginning to act like Spike really is getting better. That means I'm beginning to believe it myself…

April 20, 2073

                Another night without nightmares! This is so amazing! 

                When I talked to Spike yesterday morning, he seemed almost…surprised. He still seems shocked that he almost killed himself. I think now, in hindsight, he realizes how stupid that idea (which seemed brilliant to him at the time, I'm sure) actually was. I'm glad his eyes are finally opened. I hope that he just gets better and better from now on, and maybe…

                …the way he was before? 

April 21, 2073

                I cried today when I saw Spike. It was the first time that I've ever cried for joy; all these months I've been sobbing from anguish at his inner death, but now…I think he was reborn.

                He's recovering so quickly. Now I know why: he shocked himself so much with his suicide attempt that he also…shocked himself out of his despair from being raped. It may sound crazy, but I looked something like this up on Ed's laptop, because I had to know exactly what was going on with Spike. Here is what it said:

                _"Many survivors of such horrors as rape and sexual molestation can feel paranoid, threatened, and depressed. This depression, at first, can even go as far as these victims taking their own lives. Almost all victims do feel suicidal and depressed, as far as a year after the incident. But they also report that, now, they feel a genuine joy of being alive. Sometimes suicide attempts can even shock victims out of the worthlessness they had once felt, and change their mannerisms on their outlook on life."_

I just _know _this is what happened to Spike. He so surprised himself with his suicide attempt that he doesn't feel as depressed anymore. It sounds crazy, I know, but it has to be true! It's so amazing…now, there's only one thing left to do so that Spike can heal completely from the rape. If we could just find the bastard that did it to him…maybe we could begin to act like nothing had happened again. 

_~To Be Continued_

_                Author's Notes: _Well, here's another chappie. Getting lighter and lighter, though! It's gonna have a happy ending. ^_^  I can't allow Spike _too _much suffering, as he is so very cool. So, yeah. I think I owe this fic a little happiness, after all the angst. Oh, and that little blurb in the last entry was copied word for word from my brother's college Psychology book. So it is actually true.

                I hope that the ending wasn't _too_ boring. I just want it to be a sufficient lead-in to the next chapter. (hint, hint) 

                The next chapter will get pretty happy, though. I'm going to end it in probably two chapters, so yeah. Cool! I want to thank every single one of you for giving me all those positive reviews!! I love you all! Thank you again! huggles Well, expect the next chappie in two to three weeks. Thanks, all! bye ~PP


	5. After: At the Bebop: Love Revealed

_Faye's Diary, Chapter Five: by Phoenix Pinion_

April 23, 2073

I lost my hairbrush this morning. Normally this announcement would have been nothing but a minor annoyance to me, something that would not have even received the privilege of getting written in this diary. If anything, I would strive _not _to write such a silly irritation in these pages…except for the fact that my missing hairbrush drove Spike to do another amazing thing today.

He laughed!

When I first heard the clear sound, I could hardly believe it myself.

You see, I have a small vanity in my room – a little dresser with a tri-fold mirror and a makeup bag on top of it. This is where I usually spend my mornings, squinting disapprovingly at my face and trying to erase any signs of blemishes or wrinkles with my anti-aging powders and creams. (Do I _really _need them? I sometimes wonder. Ah, but that is beside the point.) Besides those items, there is supposed to be a brush on top of it as well. However, this morning, when I woke up again in my own room (and rejoiced accordingly about that) and ambled to my vanity, I could not find the thing. Normally I would not feel so anguished about such a silly triviality, but my hair was unusually tangled today. Sighing to myself about my own ineptitude, I began hunting in the drawers, before I heard it.

There was a soft, but nonetheless very real and amused, chuckle behind me. With my head buried in my underwear drawer as it was, I could not see the being behind me, yet I knew exactly who it was anyway. With a gasp, I raised my head, and, just as I expected, saw Spike's reflection grinning at me. He held my hairbrush loosely in one hand.

"Lose something?" he asked me, voice as sultry as it always was, an undoubtedly amused tone to it making it soft. I was too shocked to even turn and face him – I simply stared at him in the mirror, my jaw stupidly hanging open in astonishment. Did I really just hear from him what I think I did? A laugh? It's been over five months since I've heard such a thing from him. Moving forward, he held out the brush to me, and finally I snapped out of my daze, turning to meet him. He continued to smile at me as I, in a complete and total daze, took the brush from his hand.

"Th-thank you," was all I could stammer.

"You're welcome. Man, your hair! It's so long," he replied, quietly laughing again. I didn't say what I thought – _I haven't cut it since the incident – _but instead managed to smile back.

"I need to get it cut…" I started, noticing how my voice was trembling, but he quickly stopped me.

"You shouldn't. This length is pretty." With that jaw-dropping statement, he turned and walked out of my room.

He smiled! He laughed! He complimented me! He teased me!

What a momentous, pleasantly surprising day. I would write more, but I'm shaking so badly with excitement that it's hard to get my thoughts on paper! I need to start helping Jett with dinner anyway, so I'll write back tomorrow.

April 24, 2073

Nothing of great importance happened today. Well, maybe I should scratch that. Today was, in effect, a normal day. When I write that, I mean 'normal' as in 'how things were before Spike was raped'. I woke up at the usual time. I changed clothes and did my makeup, then helped Jett to fix breakfast with our dwindling supplies (we really need to start watching for another bounty). I ate with everyone, enduring Ed's mindless chatter and happy antics – watching happily whenever Spike smiled or laughed at what she had to say. I was also pleased to note that Jett seemed to notice Spike's improvement, as well. After clearing up the table after my friends and teammates, I parked myself on that horrible yellow couch to watch some gritty crime drama on the television (I hate daytime shows). After I fixed lunch, I retired to my room for a few hours and flipped through this diary, reading all of my entries up until now. It made me very pleased to see how much Spike really _has _improved. He has gone from a soulless, depressed shell of a man with nothing to live for to a happier, more cheerful guy all in the space of a week. It's amazing, but exciting, how one thing changed his outlook so much.

And dinner was the same as well. Spike actually dug into the meal with gusto, showing the appetite he _used _to have, instead of picking at it and barely eating a forkful. For once, we didn't have any leftovers! I also have the feeling that, for once, I can go to bed with a smile on my face and know that things are going to be all right.

April 26, 2073

Today I noticed that Spike was looking at something on Ed's laptop. This was strange to me, because I know that Spike is not as advanced with computers as Ed. Usually he asks her to find anything he needs instead of searching for it himself. This event was slightly strange, as well, because when I approached him, he quickly shut the lid and tried to act like he had not been doing anything of importance. I asked him what he was doing, but all he told me was "not to worry about it". I would have been a lot more suspicious if he hadn't given me that charming smile…he used to smile like that whenever he wanted me to stop pestering him about something. Well, I'm sad to say, it worked, and I left him alone for the rest of the day.

But somehow, I feel that I should be worried about what he was doing…

Oh well. It's probably just my paranoia acting up again. I'm sure it was nothing of importance.

April 27, 2073

Our food supplies are starting to run low again, and I saw a bounty worth a good amount of woolongs today on Big Shots. I think I'll send Jett and Ed out to catch it so we can buy more supplies. I would accompany them, but I still feel uneasy about leaving Spike on the ship alone. I will let Jett sit out on the next bounty and just take Ed along to compensate.

April 29, 2073

Ed and Jett still have not returned, but I am not worried about them. Every hour or so they send in a message to us via Ed's laptop; the last one that they sent in told us that they still are tracking the man, but they are getting very close. They expect that they will catch him sometime in the next three-four days. I'm glad about this; now I get to spend more time alone with Spike. Of course, I won't do anything – I certainly cannot make a move on him, his emotions are still too fragile for that – but I can at least admire him from afar. Lately, he has not changed startlingly – nothing like the day I lost my hairbrush – but he is at least able to smile, and for that reason I can smile too.

I think I've already accepted in my mind that he does not love me, and will not. My heart still aches when my eyes catch a glimpse of him, see his perfect body and want to hold him, comfort him and take away any pain he has. I'm afraid that ache and want will always remain in me, but I really don't mind it. As I have already stated, so long as Spike is happy, I am happy too.

God, I sound so sentimental. These past few months really have opened up my heart and mind to new emotions. Who knows? Maybe it is a time of healing for both of us.

May 1, 2073

Well, I officially take back everything that I wrote in that last post. It's hard to write right now through the tears, but I don't ever want to forget what just happened between Spike and I. I will describe all that happened in chronological order so I will not leave one moment out…

Spike and I had just finished clearing away and washing the dishes from dinner (it was generally easy, because the two of us are still the only ones here). I turned around to ask him if there were anymore dishes left that had not been cleaned, but instead bumped against him unexpectedly, and he gasped. Immediately I realized what I had done, and started to apologize; I was so shocked and angry at myself for my stupidity that I was almost crying, and I looked down, trying to keep the tears in. Suddenly, to my surprise, I felt Spike's long fingers gently brush against my chin, pushing it up until I met his eyes. It was then that I noticed how…_alive _those eyes of his were. The amber in them seemed to positively glow with energy. His mechanical eye, though a few shades darker than his real eye, was still just as passionate. With a loving glance he murmured, "Don't apologize. I should have told you this before, but…none of this was your fault. If anything, I should be apologizing to you…"

Up until that precise moment, that moment that I was staring into those oddly animated eyes of his and listening to him confess his sorrows to me, I had been able to hide my emotions from him. All the tears that I have ever shed were not in his presence; from the very beginning I promised myself that I would never let him see my weakness. _I need to be strong for him,_ I always told myself. Well, I suddenly could not hold any of that strength in anymore, and almost without realizing it, I started to sob. All of my emotions that I ever held in were suddenly released, as if a faucet was turned on in my mind. I fell to my knees in front of him, right there on the kitchen, as I shuddered and the tears rolled down my face.

A second passed, and then he was right there in front of me, kneeling as well, grabbing my trembling form in his strong arms (even after this whole time his arms are still just as muscled as they were before) and holding me tightly against him. I could hardly believe it. I cannot count how many nights that I did this exact same thing with him, clutching him and whispering reassurances into his ear. Our roles had suddenly reversed, and that fact in itself made me cry even harder. Some of my tears were from happiness, others from sorrow. The emotions running through my head were too numerous to count, and my mind barely registered his words as he began to speak to me.

"Faye, I'm sorry," he whispered. "I've put you through so much shit in these past few months. I've put myself through a lot of shit in these past few months…hell, I've put everyone on this ship a lot of shit in the past few months. I want to apologize, but I also want to thank you. This whole time, you've put all of your emotions on hold so that you can care for me. You devoted all of your time and effort to make sure I was happy – well, as happy as I was capable of being, at least. That's a lot more than anyone else on this ship did. And I thank you for it."

That speech that he made left me astonished, and, still crying, I stared at him in shock. His little smirk served to reassure me as his thumb rose to my left cheek and gently brushed away the tears on it. Then he continued to speak in that soft, but powerful tone of his.

"Faye, I was raped. Yes, I can admit it now…to myself as well as others. It was a terrible thing…but it doesn't mean that, because of it, I am incapable of loving you."

"Spike…" How could one man be so full of surprises, and be able to reveal them all in less than five minutes? I did not know, but that thought, as well as any others that I may have had, was soon pushed completely out of my mind as he leaned forward. His eyelids slowly flickered shut, and, of their own accord, mine did as well. It was a magical moment as his lips gently brushed against mine and his arms tightened around my waist; it didn't matter that my cheeks were wet from crying or that we were both kneeling on the floor of an extremely small kitchen. All that mattered to me was that I was finally getting that kiss, that show of love and affection from the only man that I've ever loved this much. Even the aftermath of a rape could not break his love for me, or my love for him. His rapist tried to ruin Spike's life but he obviously did not succeed, because here he was, kissing me, showing me through one gesture that he truly was recovering.

When he finally pulled away – God, those seconds seemed like an eternity – I stared at him, then burst into tears again. This time, however, my weeping was of joy rather than sorrow. Communicating worlds with those loving eyes of his, Spike slowly arose, taking my hand and helping me up as well, then walked away from me into his bedroom.

I can no longer write anymore – my joyful tears are beginning to smudge my writing. All I can do tonight is rest assured in the fact that Spike really does love me, that there's an enormous weight off my chest, and that I love him more than I ever have before.

May 2, 2073

Jett and Ed returned today, and now we are seven million woolongs richer. I wonder if they have noticed (or, if Jett has noticed at least) the difference between Spike and I. We definitely have chemistry between us; I still am giddy over the events that took place yesterday. Not only that, but I am so excited that Spike can actually admit that he was raped without getting distressed or bursting into tears. Have they noticed the way that I grin in a silly and excited manner whenever I see him? Have they noticed, as well, the fact that Spike chuckles and blushes whenever our eyes meet? If they have, I don't mind at all. I don't even mind that I'm acting like a stupid schoolgirl. A change really _has _come over me…but I know it's for the better.

May 4, 2073

Oh God, Spike is gone.

Now I know why he was looking so intently at Ed's laptop: he was looking for the location of his rapist. He was looking for it so he could leave, alone, and kill him!

I can't stop shaking. Oh God, oh God.

When he woke me up early this morning to tell me, I honestly did not believe him at first. "I'm going after him, Faye," he whispered, gently shaking my shoulder, and I remember chuckling at his seemingly ludicrous statement.

"Spike, get back to bed…it's too early in the morning…" I groaned, shutting my eyes again and figuring that was the end of it. However, the incessant shaking of my shoulder did not cease.

"Faye, I'm serious. I know where he is – I hacked into Ed's database. My ship is ready to go. I just…" his voice broke for one second before he swallowed and got it back under control again. "I just wanted to say goodbye to you."

Suddenly I realized just what he was saying. He was going to leave, alone – I already knew he would not accept my help if I offered it – and fight against the man that had nearly destroyed his entire life. "I'm going to kill him, Faye. I'm prepared this time. I won't let him…I won't let him rape me again." I realized that my abrupt trembling was not because of the cold, and looked up at him with tears in my eyes.

"Spike…you don't have to do this," I begged to him, even though I could tell by the look in his eyes that no amount of talking I did would persuade him from doing it. His mind was set; he had not come into my room to be talked out of his plan, but had simply come to say goodbye. With a last-ditch effort, I tried again. "I could follow you," I said desperately. "In case you need backup…"

The steely look in his eyes did not diminish. "Faye, I have to do this alone. You know that just as well as I do. If…if anyone tries to follow me, I'll shoot them down."

He got off of my bed to leave, but I desperately pulled him back down and kissed him deeply, feeling my eyes tearing up and wondering to myself if this was the last time that I'll ever see him. "Spike…I…I…" I began to confess my love to him, but he stopped me before I could choke it out.

"I know…save it for when I return."

And then he arose from my bed and walked out the door. A few minutes afterwards, when my body wasn't quite so shaky anymore, I got up and chased after him. I got to the hangar just as his ship was leaving, and I screamed at his retreating back, "You'd better come back alive, you…you…lunkhead! Especially after all that's happened between us! If you don't I'll…I'll…" I could not finish my thought after my voice trailed off – _I don't know what I'll do._

God, I'm so worried about him. What if he doesn't come back? I know I need to keep hope alive…but I'm not sure I can.

I hope he's ok…I don't know what would happen if he isn't.

Come back soon, Spike…oh God, _please _come back soon…because…

I love you.

_To Be Continued_

_Author's Notes – I UPDATED!! YAY!!! Does the happy authoress update dance... And this chapter is long, but boy is it sappy! Muahaha! Let yourself be immersed in the sappiness of Spike/Faye romance! I'm really proud of it, actually. I hope you guys like it too, and I hope it makes you feel better about Spike's well being. Now you just need to worry about whether he'll make it back safely or not…_

_Ok, so I really hope you guys liked this chapter, because it's certainly happier than the other four by a long shot. Maybe I moved things a little bit quickly, but I kinda liked the pace of the story. There's really only one more chapter left for me to write anyway, so I also felt I kinda had to quicken the action. If you feel differently about it, then why don't you review? And for all of you that reviewed me telling me how much you liked it, thank you! And I hope that you notice that yes, I did indeed update. So…sorry it took me so long to update! I promise updates will at least get a little bit more regular. Thanks for reading, guys! Until the next update (the final chapter, guys! Isn't it crazy? 'o'), PP_


	6. After: At the Bebop: Return

Faye's Diary, Chapter Six: By Phoenix Pinion

May 5, 2073

It's been one day since Spike left.

After his ship roared out of the hangar, as I got the last glimpse of the man I love gliding away from me, Jett, dressed only in a pair of briefs and rubbing his eyes sleepily, ran into the hangar next to me. "What…what…?" he stammered, staring at the ship, then at my tearful eyes, then back at the ship, now a tiny blip in the blackness of space. It looked like a star…Then he realized. Jett realized what had happened, and he ran his mechanical hand over his bald head and cursed.

"God damn it! That fucking idiot…what is he planning to accomplish?" He continued raging as I stared at the spot his ship had used to be. I just turned and walked back into the ship, leaving Jett yelling out his fears, worries and frustrations.

"He's going to kill his rapist," I whispered, hugging myself tightly and feeling numbness wash over my recently revitalized thoughts and emotions. The world spun around me as I took one more shaky step. "He's going to…to kill…his…"

It was then that I collapsed on the metal floor, only a few paces away from the hangar.

I awoke God knows how many hours later lying on my bed. Jett had brought me there, I assumed. It was then that I scribbled my last panicked entry into this diary, sobbing unashamedly and whimpering Spike's name the entire time. I'm going to go back to sleep now. Maybe if I do, I'll wake up and find out this was all just a bad dream…

May 6, 2073

I haven't eaten a bite of food since Spike left. I am so fucking _worried_ about him that I could hardly even uncurl myself from the yellow couch (the place where Spike first laid his head down on my lap, I rued mournfully) and drag myself to my room to fetch my diary. I have been curled into a little ball on the couch ever since I wrote the last entry in this diary, covered in the sheet that Spike used to use when he slept upon it, shivering and watching horrible daytime soap operas and talk shows. Neither Jett nor Ed have tried rousing me; I think they know that their efforts would be unsuccessful if they did try. I feel like I've just lost everything that's dear to me…again.

I mean, what if he's just gone and thrown his whole life away? What about the new love that we share? God, I am so worried…I know that I'm not supposed to lose hope, but it's almost impossible not to. All I can think of is his handsome face, his gentle smile, his romantic kisses. I have the most awful feeling I will never experience these things again.

I'm so scared…

May 7, 2073

It's been three days since Spike left. I look just as awful as I feel, with dark circles under my eyes, tearstains on my face, and body completely unwashed since four days ago. After all, why pretend that I'm fine and that everything's ok not only with Spike, but with me? Why bother?

The only thing I've done lately is write in this diary. It's my lifeline, my strength, the only thing keeping me alive through this terrible ordeal. My writing is terrible because I am shaking so badly, but what does it matter? Spike is gone. My life is gone.

Everything's gone.

May 8, 2073

After three days of laying on the couch staring with glassy and lifeless eyes at the television, I have snapped out of it. Jett finally convinced me to eat some lunch, and to show hope in the situation. He kindly brought me a tray with a glass of cool water and a ham sandwich on it, and when I refused, he said gently, "When Spike comes back he'll be disappointed in you. You need to keep your strength up so you can greet him when he returns." My lower lip began to quiver at that – he was absolutely right – and my hands shook as I took the tray from his hands. As I took a small bite of the sandwich, the tears started to flow, and Jett sat down next to me. In a gentle, fatherly manner, he put his arm around my shoulders and hugged me close, and it was then, as I chewed the sandwich and rolled the bite around in my mouth, and as I began sobbing in earnest, that I finally snapped out of my shock.

Jett is absolutely right; I need to be strong again. What kind of person am I to be so strong for Spike for all this time, for the months that he was torturing himself and struggling within himself, and break down into weakness just before the final battle is won? How can I claim to love a man so deeply and devotedly, yet lose all hope and faith in him when he finally decides to confront and defeat what has tormented him for so long? I feel like a traitor for my thoughts…

Now, I'm not saying that I'm not worried about him. On the contrary, I am so worried about him that I can hardly stand it. I don't know how I could have called myself alive before those lips of his kissed mine, and before he pronounced his love for me. And because of that, I have faith in him; he told me he was prepared, and I believe him. The only thing that worries me about that statement is that he has done some incredibly idiotic things in the past…and if this is one of them, then his life is definitely on the line…

I hope he returns soon.

May 9, 2073

It was a silly thing to try, but I did anyway. Just in case he left it on, I tried to get in touch with him through his communicator. Right as I switched mine on and started to dial his coordinates, I felt _something_ wash deeply over me. I guess I had not realized until then just how much I yearned to see some sign that he was alive, anything to tell me he was still ok. I wanted to hear his voice so badly. Of course, I got nothing but static – he probably threw it away to make sure we couldn't talk with him – but at least I tried.

I also realized today that if I avidly watch Big Shots, maybe I could be the first to find out whether they will have an update on the man that Spike is hunting. They haven't mentioned him for a while, since he literally seemed to drop off of the radar, but maybe they would if Spike can kill him. It certainly would put my aching heart at ease if I could hear anything, good or bad (but hopefully good), about Spike.

It's only been five days, but it feels like a year. I'm praying for your safe return, Spike…come home soon.

May 11, 2073

I wish I at least knew which part of the galaxy Spike was headed for…then I could have some idea of where he is, what he is doing now, and if he is in any sort of danger. I mean, he may not even be halfway to his destination. He could have gotten there by the first day he left, but if that were true, he would be back by now…right? Unless…

It has been harder and harder to keep hope alive as the days have worn on…especially since Jett is obviously getting more worried as well. He refuses to show it when Ed is around, but the moment she leaves the room his face drops, and he looks ten years older. Obviously Spike's long absence is starting to wear on his emotions as well…at least Ed does not seem to notice anything wrong. She still bounces all over the place, tangos with Ein and makes up ridiculous nicknames for all of us. A few times, she has pounced on me (at the most inopportune moments, as always), and said in her oh-so-innocent child's voice, "Where's Spike-person?" I always have looked at her and tried to be as tough as I used to. "He's hunting a bounty right now…the stupid lunkhead." Of course, the comments I make to her while I'm trying too hard not to show my worry only eases hers all the more. She believes me so blindly because Spike has always done this, left without word and come back a month later either empty-handed and starving, or rolling in money. She is still such a naïve child, and I hope she stays that way until she is much older. Whenever I hear her prancing up and down the living room singing, "Lunkhead, lunkhead, lunkheadlunkheadlunkhead" it takes all of my energy not to cry. I want that lunkhead back…I want him to be alive and safe…

May 12, 2073

There is still no word from Big Shots. I'm also trying to look up the status of Spike's assailant on Ed's laptop, but since I have no idea how to hack into Internet files, I haven't been very successful. I don't want to remind Ed of the rapist, so I refuse to ask her for help. I'll just have to be patient and wait even longer, though I've tried my hardest to be patient this whole time. I know that tracking down a bounty takes time, I know that there are so many variables that could account for the fact that Spike isn't back yet, and I want to believe them. But as each day wears on with no Spike, no word at all, _nothing_, I find myself losing hope.

I remember that Spike once, long ago, in a rare bout of reassurance, told me that "some things just take time." This phrase is silly, almost ridiculous, especially because he was talking about his bowel movements at the time. (I smile a bit just thinking about it, though at the time I punched him instead.) But those words that had at the time only meant to irk me now reassure me. Some things _do _take time, and I believe that Spike has the foresight, the willpower, and the determination to kill the horrible man who almost killed Spike's soul.

I _do _believe in you, Spike. I just wish that, sometimes, things could happen faster.

May 14, 2073

I just realized that I'm running out of pages in my diary. Every page before this is filled with my scribbly writing, writing that I had hardly used before I got this. Every page after it is blank, but knows it will be written on someday. Someday soon, it seems, because not many pages remain. Funny, when I first received it I remember marveling at how thick it was, how many pages I would have to fill (if I even started writing in it, of course…back then I was very skeptical of the whole thing). Now I'm realizing just how much I've used – not just used, but _needed_ – this little diary. All of my fears, my tears, my joy, my worries, I have recorded in this diary. I don't think that even Spike realizes how he's saved me emotionally by buying it for me. It's certainly saved my sanity since the rape.

May 16, 2073

Today seemed to be just another day waiting for Spike to return. I had no revelations, no breakdowns. I woke up, applied makeup just for the hell of it, and let the day pass me by. Jett mentioned a bounty for us to catch, because we're running low on woolongs again. But I told him firmly that I was going to wait on this ship until Spike came back. What if he came back and no one was there? What kind of a welcoming would that be, huh? I told him that if he wanted to catch a bounty, he was more than welcome to do it himself.

Was I being stubborn? Yes. A bitch? Probably. But I'm serious as well. When Spike comes back (I've refused to say the word 'if' in conjunction with that sentence anymore), imagine his sadness if he stepped foot into an empty ship, one with no one to greet him on his safe return. I want to be there. I want to be there to share his triumph and to love him.

After that, I lazed on the couch, watching pointless TV and an equally pointless episode of Big Shots. I ate dinner, showered, and watched the same episode of Big Shots over again.

Now, I'm about to sleep a troubled, dreamless sleep and wake up tomorrow to do it all over again.

I've realized that, without Spike, my life has no meaning or purpose.

May 18, 2073 (SPIKE'S HOMECOMING!)

It finally happened.

_It _finally happened!

SPIKE IS BACK!

After fourteen days, two weeks exactly, Spike has come home. Right now it's nighttime of the same day, and Spike is laying next to me in all of his handsome beauty, quietly sleeping. I'm only daring to write now because he's asleep and I can gaze at his marvelous features while I write. Before now, I focused all of my energy on him and being amazed that he's home, and now I can write this day down so I will never, never, _ever_ forget it.

It started out the same as the last few days. Like I wrote earlier, I woke up, applied makeup just for the hell of it, and prepared to let the day pass me by. As we all ate breakfast (Ed making plane noises and whooshing spoonfuls of egg into Ein's mouth), Jett mentioned he had found a bounty that was worth one million woolongs. He said the man should be an easy catch, and he could get the bounty alone. Touched that he understood why I would not accompany him, I smiled and thanked him, feeling tears of gratitude stinging my eyes. When we were finished eating dinner, Jett arose and prepared to leave for that bounty as I roped Ed into cleaning up the dishes. (I still don't know how exactly I managed that.) As the sea shanties she was belting out drifted to me from the kitchen, I settled myself down on the couch to watch Big Shots. The familiar trumpet blast, then the two Cowboys rushed into the screen. The show had started normally enough, but then it suddenly took a turn.

"Hey there, all you bounty hunters! Have we got some news for you today!" A picture then flashed across the screen, a picture of a man I recognized so well. It was Spike's rapist, and seeing him on that screen suddenly made my heart stop. I didn't realize my hands were so tightly squeezing my knees that small drops of blood were dripping down my hands until I felt the liquid, but I didn't care. This was the news I had been waiting for for two long weeks.

"This man, one of the most dangerous bounties of our time, was found yesterday in a ship near Mars. He was found dead." The lady clutched at the man's sleeve in the show.

"Ooh, scary!" she simpered. "What about the bounty hunter? Didn't he want the huuuuge reward that's been offered for this guy's head?"

"I guess not. But hey, it's just one less bounty to worry about in the big scheme of things. And that may have been our big news, but stay tuned, because we've got some other bounties for you as well!"

The show cut to a commercial break, but I hardly noticed. All I could think about was Spike. He had done what he set out to do. He had killed the man who had raped him and taken away his dignity. Tears of helpless relief and joy streamed down my face. Everything was going to be ok…

I sat on the couch for the next hour in a daze. I remember Ed walking by once and commenting on the blood on my knees and hands. I can't remember exactly what she said, though. I remember Jett telling me goodbye, and he told me once more something about how I shouldn't worry. I can't remember his exact words either. I just remember that I never stopped smiling during that whole hour.

And, at 12:51 precisely, just as I had finished washing up my knees and hands, I walked out of my room to hear a voice that I have missed for two weeks hollering, "HEY, IS ANYONE HERE? FAYE? JETT? ED? ANYONE?"

_Oh my God_, I thought hysterically, and my heart stopped for the second time that day. I took one deep breath before running to the hangar, where his voice emanated.

Sure enough, Spike was there…standing next to his ship…looking hardly worse for wear. When he noticed I was standing there in the doorway with a panicked, relieved, _so fucking happy _look on my face, his yelling softened to a loving smile. "Faye…I did it." He said this as I ran to him, tears of joy leaking from my eyes, and practically leaped into his arms. Spike was back…everything was all right now.

And sure enough, it was. After he held me for minutes, gently mumbling into my ear how he was ok, how everything was fine, how _the bastard was finally dead now and couldn't hurt anyone else_, we walked hand in hand into the ship. No longer am I afraid to hide my love was Spike, and it seems he feels the same. We walked into the ship, and I breathlessly told him that Jett was gone to catch a bounty and that Ed…was Ed, and I had no idea where she was. Spike smiled at me again, and my knees felt weak with raw, crushing love. "It's ok," he whispered. "I only wanted to see you anyway."

We walked into my room then, I unable to keep my mouth shut and babbling to him everything that had happened on the ship in the past two weeks, he smiling at my enthusiasm and happiness and listening with love in his eyes. Once we were inside, we sat down on the bed, and I hugged him again. It only now was starting to sink in that he was truly here, that he was all right. A comfortable silence settled over the room as we sat and embraced. Finally he pulled back and held me at arm's length. It was then that I asked him what had happened.

"Well, I went to where Ed's laptop told me he'd be. That took about six days. Once I got there…we fought, and I killed him. He wasn't able to take advantage of me this time, though he got a few good licks on me." As he said that, I noticed for the first time the light-colored bruise that was underneath his right eye. "Then…I traveled back. I left his body there because I didn't want the woolongs, only the revenge. He's gone, Faye. I killed the bastard and neither of us have to think of him again."

"Oh, Spike…" I hugged him again, refusing to let him go, never wanting him to leave me again. Finally, I pulled back enough to where our faces were close, but not touching. Then I smiled at him and narrowed my eyes. "So, Spike, this is for leaving." As I said that, I slapped him across the face, and, clearly stunned, he stared at me. "But…this is for coming back…" I pulled him close again and kissed him hard, a kiss that he did not resist. When we broke the kiss, he smiled.

"Somehow, that was what I expected. Now…I have to take a shower. I stink."

As he showered, I got communication with Jett and told him the wonderful news. He, of course, called off his search and said he would be at the Bebop by tomorrow. I also roused Ed from her slumber (I found her dead asleep with Ein in a kitchen cupboard), and she eagerly waited outside of the bathroom for Spike to emerge.

The three of us ate dinner later on that day, after Spike good-naturedly let Ed hug him and crawl all over him like a monkey. (My hand is starting to get sore after all the writing I've already done, but I want to always remember this day…I want to write it down as accurately as possible.) The whole time during dinner Spike and I simply stared lovingly at each other, each affirming within ourselves the love that his absence had strengthened all the more. It must have been a sickening sight, but I don't care. All I care about is Spike, is the fact that he's alive, well, and back.

Now here we lay, Spike snoring gently and I right next to him, stealing glances at him as I write. He's back…he's back…I can't write that enough.

Spike has returned, and now I'm reborn.

May 19, 2073

Even though I was so furious at Spike for leaving, I can now say that it was for the best. His eyes are so alive, his smiles so genuine, his kisses so loving.

Today was wonderful. Jett returned, and he had a gruff, awkward, trying-to-hold-tears-in reunion with Spike. They stared at each other for a moment, then Jett said roughly, "I'm glad you're back, you old bastard," and awkwardly wrapped his real arm around Spike's shoulders. Spike just laughed and dodged his embrace.

"I'm glad to see you've become a softie in my absence," he teased. Jett looked offended, but didn't care enough to retort. I guess he's just like all of us: he's so happy that Spike is back.

I practically haven't been able to stay away from him since yesterday. (He certainly doesn't mind, of course.) The only place I do not follow him into like a lovesick puppy is into the bathroom.

Ah, I'm so happy he's back.

Finally, everything's back to normal.

May 30, 2073

It's been a while, I know. Everything has been so amazing, so awesomely _normal_ and _all right_ and _ok_ in the past eleven days, that I am struggling even now to find something to write about.

Spike and I are becoming closer than I ever believed was possible. I don't have to be a haughty, selfish bitch to him anymore, and he no longer has to be an ass. We are simply ourselves, and our love is deep and irrevocable.

Spike mentioned yesterday as we lay on the couch together, watching a silly movie, that one good thing had come out of his rape: it had taught us both to love. And, in a way, he's right. I guess tragedy really does leave love in its wake. It certainly did for Spike and I.

Jett seems almost disgusted by us at times, by our love that so suddenly has sprung up, but he is happy too. I can see it in his eyes; he is so happy for us. He wants things in his life to work out and is delighted when they do, and the two of us were one of those things.

Ed, on the other hand, is still just Ed. A few days ago she knocked on the door to Spike's room. The two of us had been quietly talking about everything and nothing when we heard her knock, and when I answered the door, she asked with wide eyes, "Are you guys making _babies?_" Spike got me to laugh about it afterwards, but I was mortified when I first heard that oh-so-innocent question from her mouth.

Yes, things are still wonderful. I never thought that I would learn to love again, especially to love so deeply. But I do, and Spike does, and the whole thing is like a wonderful miracle.

If I believed in religion, Spike would be my angel…

June 5, 2073

Spike and I have decided to leave the Bebop.

"Too many bad memories," he told me, lolling on my bed yesterday morning as I squinted in front of my mirror, applying mascara to my eyes. "We don't need to be Cowboys anymore. Don't you see? We love each other." And I realized, almost stunned, that he was right. Though I have been a Cowboy since as long as I can remember, I now don't need to be one anymore. I'm no longer alone in life, and I don't need freelance work that hardly ever pays out to tell me who I really am.

We talked about it a little longer, to make sure it was what we truly wanted. "I have some woolongs saved up," he said quietly, "we can live off of that for a while until we find real jobs."

"I do too," I recalled. "I was going to buy you a gift, though…" Spike smiled at my downcast expression as I realized I had forgotten to buy him anything since I said I would long months ago. He told me that it was all right, that leaving this godforsaken ship would be more of a gift to him than anything my woolongs could buy. When we pooled our money, we found out we had enough to buy a decent place in maybe Venus, or Mars. Wherever we go, it will be amazing.

When we told Jett, at first he was angry, but then he realized it was for the best. I think he said something about how he'd rejoin the police force he left so long ago. Ed, of course, was terribly sad, but she's going back to Earth with Ein for more adventures. We're all leaving each other, but it's for the best. Everything will be fine now, and we all know it.

I've reached the last page of my diary. It seems as though I'm finishing this part of my life to start a completely new one, one I'm sure will be better than the last. Before Spike's rape, after Spike's rape and his revenge: it's all behind me now. Now I have Spike, Spike has me, and we can do anything together.

A new start for Faye Valentine, ex-bounty huntress extraordinaire. I like that.

Goodbye, for the last time.

She surveyed the last written page of the diary, reading it fondly one last time before closing the book and tucking it underneath her arm. Having already packed her meager possessions, she surveyed the room to make sure she did not miss anything else. It looked bare and emptily back at her. She smiled, however, at the emptiness. _A new start…_

"Ready to go?" Faye smiled at the lovely sound of Spike's proud voice, so beckoning and hopeful for the future, no longer laden with the woes of the past. She turned and smiled, picking up her single suitcase with her empty hand.

"Yep, I think I'm all packed. And hey…I _do _have a gift for you."

Still smiling, she pecked him lightly on the cheek, then she placed her diary in his hand. He surveyed it, at first confused, examining the hand-stitched vine of roses curling around the black cloth cover and the letters "F.V." monogrammed at the bottom. The recognition then dawned, and he chuckled.

"Oh! It's that diary I gave you! You actually used that old thing?"

"You'd be surprised," Faye laughed, putting an arm around him and leading him out of the room. "It's yours now to do with as you'd like. Now, let's get out of here."

Out to the hangar they walked to their respective ships, two lovers joined together by tragedy, starting anew in the sometimes cruel, sometimes lovely game of life.

_The end of one story, the beginning of the next…_

_Author's notes: Oh my dear sweet God. I finished this story! Finally, eh? It's finally done. I'm kind of sad at that realization, but all in all, very satisfied and proud. I hope you guys liked reading this story as much as I loved writing it. I had fun every step of the way. Again, thank you all for all of your support. You guys are amazing. PP_


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